#speechless fic

[antilocaprine]

Final chapter of Speechless is now up. Thank you all for your feedback and support over the last *checks notes* two years? Good lord... thank you for your patience. Sheesh.

Okay, now on to my other WIPs.

[mayhemspreadingguy]

@magnusbae, not expecting I'd follow through, suggested to sketch Anakin but with cat fangs... Things got out of hand.

Also, look! Magnusbae gifted me with a most lovely fic inspired by my art (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) (fic under the cut, 3,800+ words).

That’s it. Anakin had resisted long enough. 

All through morning, noon and even dinner. He had done his Katas, had finished his chores, even went through his studies, all without so much as a single comment. He deserves to be commended personally by Master Yoda for being an exemplary Jedi. He deserves to be knighted right this moment seeing how he never even mentioned just how force karked awful his Master’s hair looked like for the past week. Sticking in all directions, it grows in uneven patches, the addition of a beard is somehow making his elegant Master look like a beggar from the streets and that, that is intolerable. 

Anakin growls quietly, muscles tense. He knows his Master most likely can feel him staring holes through him, and yet he simply continues reading his datapad, not asking nor looking, radiating calm in the force. Anakin wonders if he could tidy that mess with the power of thought alone. Would that be considered a frivolous use of the force? Even if done in the service of the republic? After all, his Master’s good looks are the cornerstone of the… 

Obi-Wan scratches at the back of his head, clearly bothered and Anakin can’t tolerate this anymore, cannot accept this anymore. His tongue is itching something fierce, his hands are sweating, he cannot sit still like there’s fire ants filling his pants and crawling up his spine. He cannot tolerate this. If not for himself, he must do this for his Master. If not for his Master, then for the order. If not for the order, then for the Galaxy. If not for the Galaxy, then for the Force itself. For he can swear by all that he holds dear that the Force itself is embarrassed by his Master being so unkempt, so ungroomed. 

Unacceptable. This is absolutely unacceptable. His Master has to always look neat and nice and put together, smelling fresh and looking proper. That’s the only right way for his Master to be. Anakin will not stand for it being any other way. He will not. He will make it right. 

His Master ignores the first lick. He often does that, pretends to not notice in the hopes of Anakin stopping after catching himself at his instincts. Oftentimes it works. Oftentimes it is an accident. But not this time. This time it’s very much on purpose and very much intended to continue until Anakin is satisfied with the results. All Anakin needs is for his Master to continue pretending to not notice long enough for him to fix this mess. 

Two more licks, lower neck up the scratchy beard and—

“Anakin—” his Master stops pretending so suddenly that Anakin’s tongue moves over his jawline and across the beard in a way that tickles funny. Anakin likes how it feels, rough and interesting, makes him curious about how it’ll feel like to lick across the jawline, where the beard is the thickest.

Knowing he does not have much time before his Master attempts to stop him altogether, Anakin leans in with renewed urgency, tongue ready, mouth starting to water— “Anakin, stop!” a strong hand pushes against his shoulder, moving him a distance away without being as rough as to push. 

“Mrrphh!” Anakin protests, pushing against the hand but not fighting it actively. His Master can be so bossy when he gets like this, so unreasonable. The only way to win is to use his words, otherwise his Master might just walk off and hide in his rooms instead. Or worse, go meditate in the halls, where everyone will see this shameful disaster.

“You need the grooming, Master!” Anakin starts with the foundation and heart of his objection. His Master always teaches that it’s important to be able to pinpoint the problem early on and address it quickly so as to not let it fester and become bigger than it must be. Granted his Master spoke of interpersonal disputes however it absolutely does apply here. His Master simply cannot deny this reasoning, ergo, will not be able to dispute it as untrue. “So just let me!” Anakin adds, before his Master could somehow find a way to object.

Can’t his Master see that Anakin is offering him a service? Out of the kindness of his heart, no less. Him enjoying the way his Master’s flavor sits on his tongue, the way it makes all the small hairs on his body stand on end, how it fills him with excitement— His Master’s scent, rich and spiced and safe— how he favors it above all else even when the exotic teas make him sneeze and sneeze— the way a single point of contact would narrow his senses into a single point of focus, clear his mind of all worries— the way his vision relaxes, the way his nostrils flare and he inhales and inhales and inhales— the way his heartbeat peaks and then slows, the way his mouth goes dry and he feels thirsty, hungry even— all that, all that has nothing to do with his altruistic motivations. He’s just looking out for his Master. Obviously, duh. 

“Master.” He can hear his own voice, can hear how it takes a whiny note his Master often teases him for. It’s hard to care when he has a goal bigger than his own ego. “Just let me.” He demands, he can hear it and he still doesn’t stop himself from reaching for his Master’s flowing robes, claws catching on the material and making him shudder. Maybe he does need trimming just like his Master insists each time they spar. Maybe Anakin will allow it, if his Master is good and allows him this. Maybe he’d even let his Master groom him too.

The bewilderment in the force clues Anakin on the fact that yes, maybe he did forget to shield, again. He huffs through his nose, wrinkling it. He really doesn’t know what the big deal with this is, doesn’t understand the obsession everyone and especially his Master, has with hiding every single urge and instinct and thought they have. It’s not like he thinks anything he wouldn’t also say out loud. Maybe if the Jedi used less of those shields, it would have been much easier to communicate with them, to bond with them, and maybe then he’d feel less like an outsider, like an odd bird out of its cage.

“Oh Anakin..” Obi-Wan sighs, the tension loosening from his hold against his shoulder, rather than scolding, there’s the hints of the sadness his Master expresses each time Anakin feels alienated in this place. It is not his fault no one understands him, it is not his fault he is different than everyone. 

“Master.” Anakin chirps back, rolling his eyes. His Master has the oddest of tendencies to get hung up on the most particular of topics. Anakin not having enough friends, per his Master’s opinion, is one such topic. Nevermind the fact that Anakin had never seen his Master ever share a true conversation with a single person. Other than himself. Of course. His Master does talk to him.

His Master will get fixated on him instead of thinking about himself and nag him to half death. ‘Anakin get more friends’ and ‘Anakin don’t spread the droid parts all across the quarters’ and ‘Anakin I’m a grown man I can groom myself.’ And while some of those things might be true, obviously, the last one is not. “You look like a mess.” Anakin says it to his face, because he and his Master are real friends.

“Thank you Padawan.” His Master answer, no longer sounding sad, instead his voice is dripping with sarcasm. Anakin doesn’t like it, but he supposes it’s better than sadness. “I do not recall asking for your no doubt impeccable sense of— Ahnakin—!” his ranting stops mid warming up when Anakin uses the opening to dart forward and lick him again, from the lowest exposed spot of his neck, up the smooth skin, his rough tongue making a satisfying ‘shh’ sound as it catches at the hair of the beard and smooths it up with his lick. The flavor is… is… 

Obi-Wan had used some sort of balm… some sort of synthetic musk that makes Anakin’s brain swim funny and eyes to close and mouth to water even more. He has to swallow down the saliva lest he drool like a hungry Tooka. It’s hard not to, when his Master is so, so, so karkin yummy. He slams his shields up with a clumsy thud in the force, but maybe just a moment too late to cover up that last thought.

“Anakin!” his Master sounds properly scandalized, voice raising to a tone that always makes Anakin’s ears ring uncomfortably and the following lecturing tone is no better. “Cease this nonsense immediately, you must not—" 

Anakin licks again. The side of his neck and up to the point where skin meets ear. “Master.” He says there, voice dropping into a purr that morphs into a warning growl he didn’t even think of making, there’s no aggression, only the frustrated warning to not stop him in the middle of something so damn important. Grooming, is important. More than Katas or studies or meditations. Maybe even more than sparring. And Anakin loves sparring. 

All Anakin wants is for his Master to sit quietly and let him take care of him. The way he ought to, the way he was meant to do. It’s his job, after all, is it not? He is Obi-Wan’s Padawan, it’s only natural he would tend to his Master, that he would care for him, that he would help him. That just makes sense. That rings true in the force and that’s all Anakin needs to know.

"I will.” He declares, it is no longer a request nor a plea, it is a declaration of intentions. A declaration of intent. He presses his nose at the soft skin under his Master’s ear and inhales, deeply, the scent making him Master-stupid so he says what’s on his mind with no filters, with no thought. “Unless you hate me.” His voice drops softer, he can’t breath, having inhaled too much of the strongest drug known to him. “Then I won’t” he trembles, he waits, if his Master rejects him, if he does hate him for his care, he will, he

“Anakin, this is hardly related, I do not think that—”

The force between them sparks and Obi-Wan’s mouth snaps closed with an audible click of the jaw. There’s a tension and a heating of an eruption that is halted with the calming breeze of spring air, Obi-Wan’s Force Signature covering his own, soothing, embracing, calming. “Very well, Padawan.” Obi-Wan speaks with a voice of a man who’s been worn in battle, sighing out in exhaustion.b “Since you cannot resist your nature, I’ll allow it.“ He pauses, sounding not a little doubtful as he adds the obligatory “Just this once, Anakin.” A final form of giving in, one Anakin is familiar with. 

There’s an ‘You should be old enough to know better’ goes unsaid and so Anakin ignores it. It wouldn’t have mattered even if Obi-Wan did say it. He had before, many times, and it never mattered. Anakin somehow doubts it’ll matter even when he grows taller than Obi-Wan. And he will, he just knows it. He will grow tall and strong, and he will always take care of his Master, and Obi-Wan would not be able to argue with that. Because it’ll all make sense. It always does. Everything about them does. 

If only his Master understood him better, he’d know that one doesn’t just grow out of wishing to groom those he cares and…loves. This is something that is forever and always. That is something that only grows and deepens, something to be shared and relished. Something he will always give to his Master freely, even if his Master maybe doesn’t…. Really share it in the same way as him. Which is fine. He had decided a long time ago. It is fine. 

It is enough that he gets to care for his Master. So he smiles instead and purrs out a sweet “Thank you, Master.” In that respectful manner he knows his Master enjoys hearing. He giggles when he feels his Master’s breath hitching, giggles more when nuzzling against the neck tickles his nose. “This is so horrible.” He complains, wanting his Master to know how strongly he objects to this change, and yet he cannot stop giggling. “Master!” he doesn’t even try to hide his joy from his voice, nevermind from the Force.

His Force Signature is a slow pulse of contentment, securely tucked beneath Obi-Wan’s still. When he licks small licks under Obi-Wan’s ear, he can feel his Master’s breath catching, can feel the way he stops breathing entirely and the soft gasp when Anakin licks at his ear directly, once, twice, a few more times just to test how committed his Master is to this session. Very, it seems. His Master doesn’t object even when Anakin grows bold and nibbles at his earlobe, tugging ever so gently. His Master is always so sensitive around this area, always so jumpy if Anakin stays too long at this spot. It always makes Anakin want to lick there until Obi-Wan loses his composure entirely.

He never does. 

At least not too much.

He does want to groom Obi-Wan after all, not only bully him into squirming because he is so damn ticklish there. That is not to say that he is above wanting to see his pristine Master squirming a little. So he licks there again, and when his tongue dips only a little into the ear, his Master finally jumps and moves away, breathing harshly and looking redder than his hair.

“Anakin I do believe that my hair is not located in that particular spot and—” his hands close on Anakin’s shoulders when he makes it to the ear again, wanting to nibble just one more time, just one last time… “Anakin.” His Master’s firm voice snaps him back into focus, tells him gently through the force to not overdo it. Fine, fine. He will not overdo it. This time.

"Just relax, Mastah.” Anakin pouts, the word slurring in the way his Master always corrects. Always, but not now. Anakin reaches for his Master’s wide shoulders and waits a moment until his Master’s grip loosens enough for him to actually move. It’s easy enough to shift to his Master’s lap. One knee over and sitting down in one smooth motion that has a practiced finesse to it. You either get to Obi-Wan’s lap swiftly, or you don’t at all. There is no room for hesitation for his Master will do enough hesitating for the both of them. So he sits down and nudges closer, right away. Inhaling, inhaling deeper.

Oh how he wants their scent to become one. They’re already nearly inseparable, living as closely as they do, using the same soaps, eating the same foods. Anakin wants more. Anakin wishes that they could smell and feel like one. United. Clearly bonded. Even more than they are through the force. He wants it so much that his fangs itch, itch, itch to bite and bite and bite. But no. No he is here to groom, to care. Not to bite, not to… mark. His cheeks are warm with it, knowing that he has, and is, constantly considering this. Wondering about this, curious about this. About marking his Master in a way that will be known, in a way that will be understood. He thinks about it, always. Luckily his Master has no clue. Luckily, Obi-Wan does not know. Or he wouldn’t let him sit here so carelessly, surely, he wouldn’t. 

“It’s part of it, duh.” Anakin says without truly knowing what he speaks of. The grooming, the licking, the biting, the sitting on the lap? He doesn’t know. He only knows of the happy, loud purr that fills his lungs when Obi-Wan doesn’t stop him from leaning back in, back to his neck, nuzzling, smelling, licking up that rough, funny tasting beard and to his hair, spiky and significantly softer than the beard. He giggles again, and purrs. It’s an odd combination of sounds he does try to stop but doesn’t manage. He is too preoccupied for dignity, or decorum, or class. He’s too karking pleased. 

When he licks at his Master’s neck again, the man tilts his head up and away, exposing his throat for him. Good. Good. Good, great, awesome.

His Master couldn’t have displayed his trust more plainly than this. No words could have conveyed the same level of commitment, of confidence and belief. Exposing one’s throat, Anakin thinks, is a universal sign. Even if his Master is less inclined to instincts as Anakin is, it still counts, it still matters a whole lot that he does it for him. His Master does it because he knows it matters to him and that— that matters more than all else.

His own purring is deafening, drumming in his eardrums and filling his chest with sound, he used to try to hide this in the past when he realized that most Padawans did not purr at every one of their Master’s compliments or gestures of kindness. He no longer bothers. He pulls and licks and purrs some more. He takes his time, licking small, measured licks, taking care to put that awful messy beard into something much neater, dignified.

“Maste-rrr.” He draws the ‘R’, nuzzling again under the ear and grinning when his Master shudders but doesn’t pull away, he always gives him a chance to be good. So he will be good. He does not nibble, instead he wraps his lips carefully around the bit of skin where no hair touches. Oh he wants to suck, to mark, to taste. Oh he does, so much. But he doesn’t. He will be good, because his Master believes him to be good, and proper, and nice. So he will be. 

His cheeks are fire hot when he thinks about what else he would have liked to be doing instead of the promised grooming. That is not something he should be thinking of, nor something his Master would ever permit, but…

Thinking is not illegal and he is not good at not thinking. 

So he imagines it. Imagines how his Master’s hands would feel on his hips, imagines his Master yanking him down to sit properly on his lap, Imagines his Master wanting him to lick elsewhere and—

“Ahnakin—” Obi-Wan protests, so strongly it rings in the force with his words. He feels and looks scandalized, even more so than before. He looks like he is considering all his choices and decisions. He looks like he’s about to call quits. He looks like he’d push Anakin away, he— places his hands on Anakin’s hips and pulls him down, to sit properly. 

The whine that escapes Anakin’s lips is nothing short of mortifying. It’s a needy, surprised thing, he feels like a proper youngling, confused and shy. He seeks the refuge of his Master’s neck and hides there, nuzzling while whining again, complaining, scandalized too by his Master’s audacity to follow his dreams up like this. He can’t mean it, he simply can’t! It is a mere coincidence, his Master would never follow his fantasies, he didn’t even hear it, his shields are up and proper, he’s sure of it, he’s sure of it, he’s… 

“Sorry…” Anakin murmurs out, because if he’s honest, he is not sure if his shields are worth anything with how excited he had gotten. Maybe his Master did hear, maybe his Master did feel something. Maybe he did push a little too hard. He doesn’t want to push too hard, he knows that sometimes his Master gets nervous because of his thoughts. Not angry, never angry.

He doesn’t want to make his Master nervous, he can feel the tell-tales of it in the force. Despite his Master’s secure hold on him, despite his Master’s unmoving frame. He can feel the building up hesitation. He does not want his Master to feel that way with him. 

“I’ll stop.” He promises his Master, assures him. He’ll try to, anyway. For his Master he’d try to go against his nature, even if his nature does tell him to think and do all sorts of things. Sometimes, in the quiet of the night when he can’t sleep and he thinks of his Master and every word they had ever passed, he does wonder about this. Is this truly his nature, his instincts that drive him to act as he does, or is it simply how he is with his Master? He suspects he knows the answer to that, but it’s easier for the both of them to call it instincts and be over with it, so he never disputes it. “Really.”

There’s a charged silence and then, blessedly, his Master says the two words Anakin loves more than anything else in the world, the two words for which he, not jokingly, thinks he might be willing to die for. 

“Good boy.”

The Coruscanti accent is thick and rolling, he sounds almost distracted, he sounds… 

Anakin shuts his eyes and bites his tongue, fangs digging into the soft flesh. He must not think of exactly how he imagines his Master sounding. He should not think about how his hands feel warm and human on his hips. He should not think about the lingering flavor on his tongue nor how his lungs are full of Obi-Wan, of his Master. He should not, is not allowed to. Promised not to. Instead he wraps his arms around his Master’s neck and hugs him, pulling the larger man to himself, having his head against his chest for a few long moments in which he is sure Obi-Wan hears just how fast his heart goes. He surely can feel it through the bond, it’s going crazy, ba-dum, ba-dum. 

He can feel a distant echo of his own heartbeat, almost imperceptible to his senses, and yet there. An answer. Thoomp-thoomp.

When he leans back, he moves his hands to cup his Master’s cheeks and makes him tilt his head up, to face him. “You look good now,” His fangs stretch at his lips as he grins wide enough to hurt. “Master!” he adds, cheekily.

His Master’s eyes are a bright blue, the deepest, calmest pond. He rolls them shortly, then looks directly into Anakin’s own eyes and smiles at him, sarcasm dripping with fondness as he says “Thank you. Ah-nah-kin.” With the most accented tone Anakin had ever heard. There’s so much black in his Master’s eyes, a beautiful, wondrous thing that makes him itch all over and want to see more of that soft darkness no one else gets to see. 

No one else, but him. 

[gothamite-rambler]

Bruce Meets His Son: Damian (Part 1)

Talia: Bruce, this is Damian. Damian, this is Bruce.

Damian extended his hand for a handshake. Bruce obliged but was unsure why he’s being introduced to the young child.

Damian (confused): Why is he dressed like a bat?

Talia (mock sweetness): It’s his thing.

Bruce (offended): Okay, you don’t have to talk about me like I’m not here. Why are you showing me this child?

Jason, standing behind Bruce, covered his mouth, chuckling.

Talia: He’s my son.

Dick (instant realization): He’s your son? That is your son? Which means... Oh wow. Wow!

Dick started to laugh, but stopped when Bruce gave him a confused stare. He turned back to Talia and Damian.

Damian (waving): Hello.

Bruce (not putting two and two together): Hi... And Talia?

Dick: Oh... Oh, you don’t get it?

Jason: He doesn’t get it. Hahahaha!

He indeed did not understand what was going on.

Talia: Bruce, I’m going to hold your hand when I say this.

Talia took Bruce’s gloved hand. Ra's al Ghul walked over, holding up a camera to record the exchange. Dick and Jason stood by, eager to see how Talia would word her revelation.

Talia: He is my son... and he is your son.

Bruce blinked, not responding. He heard what she said but wasn't sure what to say in return. He looked down at Damian again and this time he's able to see the resemblance to both of them.

Damian (confused): The guy in a giant bat suit is my father? This is the Bruce Wayne?

Damian tapped his chin thoughtfully.

Damian: Not the craziest thing I've had to deal with. Although, mother when you said he was odd about what he wears I did not expect this.

Talia nodded, but when Bruce didn't say anything she was concerned with his silence.

Talia (concerned): Bruce, are you going to say something?

Dick: Bruce?

Bruce gulped. Jason clapped while laughing.

Jason: This is great. I’m so glad I got to witness this today.

Bruce (finally speaking): I’m sorry. I must have hallucinated when you said the little boy standing in front of me is my... son.

Talia (repeating herself): Bruce, he is your son.

Bruce (in disbelief): No, he’s not.

Jason (enjoying this): There’s the denial.

Talia (exasperated): Here we go again. Yes, he is.

Bruce (panicked): No... no, he’s not. I can’t have kids; my swimmers are broken.

Damian: Swimmers?

Talia quickly covered Damian’s ears.

Talia: They most certainly are not. That prophylactic was though!

Dick: You can have kids? Prophylactic? The condom broke?!

Jason: I know, right!

Dick couldn't hold in his laughter anymore and now he started cacking along with Jason.

Bruce (stammering, denial): He’s not... I’m not... The kid is not my son.

Talia (uncovering Damian’s ears): Yes, he is! I got a DNA test done! He is your child. I have your blood from a... not important, but he is yours! The baby is yours!

Damian: I’m 8.

Dick (laughing): Oh God.

Bruce (in a state of shock): 8?

Bruce remembered that night, the night of regret a wallet that had one gas station condom and now he was linked to her forever.

Talia: Mm-hm, remember when you were really sad and I was there to comfort you and one thing led to another? Surprise. Damian, hug your father.

Damian: Um, okay, I have been planning for this.

Damian hugged Bruce who at this moment was wearing his Batman suit and his son who he just found out about was hugging him. The son he now shares Talia is hugging him! Jason walked around laughing and clapping again.

Ra's al Ghul (continuing to record the reaction): She unfortunately speaks the truth. I’m disappointed you share DNA with him, but we have the test. He’s... yours.

Bruce had a million swarming thoughts in his head but all he could think was that the son he did not know about was around Ra's Al Ghul for 8... Years!

Damian (surprised): The guy dressed as a bat is my father? I’m sorry to repeat myself, but he’s dressed like a bat. It's so odd.

Ra: I know. I know.

Dick: Bruce, say something other than “No, he’s not” or “He’s not mine.”

Bruce stood stunned and silent. His oldest son waved his hand in front of his face.

Dick: Oh, he’s actually speechless.

Talia (sighing): To be expected. Jason, I’ll send you a video of his reaction like we discussed.

Jason: Thank you.

Dick: You knew?!

Jason (laughing): For 8 years! Yes!

Damian: Hi akh brother Jason.

Jason waved at Damian as Dick was trying to adjust to the fact that Jason knew for 8 years.

Dick: Why didn’t you say anything?

Jason: I was fucking furious with him and wanted revenge, and this... this is the best revenge. Long-term silent revenge is my new favorite thing.

Dick: I’ll deal with you in a second. Bruce, are you with us?

Bruce fainted, falling backward. Damian looked down at the man in the batsuit.

Damian: I’m not sure I want him to be my father.

Ra (ending the recording): I agree with you, child, but it is what it is.

He walked off with the camera.

Ra: I’m going to burn this onto a DVD and keep a copy.

Talia (frustrated): You do that, father.

Dick walked over to Damian, stepping over Bruce.

Dick: Um, Bruce is just a bit shocked that he can actually have kids without adopting them. He’s a good guy, though.

Damian: Are you sure about that? Jason told me he was ‘not bad.’ I’m not really seeing it.

Dick glared at Jason. Jason shrugged with a smile. Dick turned back to Damian. Damian lightly kicked Bruce’s leg, but the man can only twitch while remaining unconscious.

Dick: Not bad is actually a good description for him, he’s an amazing crime fighter and usually can compose himself. I’m Dick, by the way. I guess we’re brothers.

Damian: That’s your legal name?

Dick (upset, but hiding it): My birth name is Richard Grayson.

Damian: Why do you go by—

Talia and Jason: Don’t ask.

Dick groaned in annoyance and then held out his hand. Damian shook it respectfully, still perplexed by his strange new family—which says a lot.

Previous ---> Jason knew about Damian's existence

---> Dick confronts Jason about keeping this secret

---> Bruce meeting his son part 2

[morningstarwrites]

Hello! I made this, it's inspired by the mural from Of Saints and Sinners ☺️💖

I'm genuinely flabbergasted at how beautiful this is? YOU MADE THE STAINED GLASS WINDOW?! I LOVE IT!!!!

[beatrice1979a]

Speechless Changes - Ch 1

by @justmywritingstuff

tumblr - read in AO3

Pose credit: @theposearchives for this pose

== CH 6-1 -

Claw takes a final step forward, close enough that Shady can feel his breath on her face. No, that’s not what he wants, that isn’t what they are. He shakes his head—his gaze never once wavering.

“I wouldn’t say friends.” Claw says.

Shady narrows her eyes, anger trying to hide her hurt.

“Fine, then we wo—”

Claw slams his lips onto hers before she can get out another word.

[420pogpills]

do you ever just finish reading one of those fics that have you staring at the ceiling in silence because you can't comprehend that you got to read something that is nothing short of a masterpiece and FOR FREE ??? god bless you writers you truly make the world a better place

[hedwig221b]

I am happy to inform y'all that I have finished my wip and it's gonna be devastating

UPD: it's HERE

[antilocaprine]

In chapter eight of Speechless there's a little bit where Gordon realizes Benrey's probably really tired from keeping him safe this whole time, do you have more thoughts and words to say abt that concept bc it intrigues me greatly and makes me cry a little

(Speechless) (spoilers below the cut, if that matters)

That's such a great moment to latch onto and ask for details about, because it kind of distills the purpose of that particular fic to one moment of clarity.

In general, Gordon HLVRAI is pretty self-centered and self-absorbed. Of course he is! He's literally the main character, and he knows it! Whichever way you look at it - streamer playing a weird game, or actual scientist reacting to his world falling apart - he's the catalyst and the linchpin. Things wait to happen until he happens upon them. Nothing important happens any time he's asleep - of course he figures he's the only one who matters! And he uses this attitude as a gauge for how he treats the rest of the Science Team. Lots of yelling, lots of flailing, lots of swearing. He'll wait for them to catch up for a grand total of five seconds, and then just move on without them. It doesn't matter! He's the main character!

In Speechless, all of that crashes down onto his head when he loses his general defense mechanism of being loud and shouty. He can't react the same way he did in the streams, so he can't yell louder than everyone else in order to lead the way. Instead, he is almost taken hostage by the Science Team as they suddenly have all this free airspace to talk in. And in response, he maybe starts to see them as their own people, not just supporting characters. It's kind of like some version of Stockholm Syndrome, except it's really just Gordon being forced to act like a decent human being.

So that moment where Benrey rips the last of the Coomer clones off of him and immediately goes into protective mode, Gordon's got a moment to catch his breath and really think about how his team has been treating him the last few days. And he's smacked with the realization that Benrey has actually been nothing but helpful ever since he found him again after Gordon got his arm cut off. Of course, Gordon doesn't know this, but we do: Benrey changed everything by getting to Gordon first. The Science Team is reunited in reverse order, and that allows more time for Benrey to "redeem" himself for the arm thing, and also more time for Gordon to see him interact one-on-one with Bubby, as well as the others.

Chapter 8 is the true climax and heart of that fic - everything happens so much and it all happens there. It's Gordon seeing a sliver of humanity in Benrey, seeing the olive branch Benrey has been smacking him with, and starting to reach out in response. He's still a self-centered idiot, and Benrey still doesn't really know how people work, but that little glimpse of the effort Benrey had been expending is the real point of taking away Gordon's voice and forcing him to see his team for who they are - people who could be his friends.

I hope this makes sense, but please feel free to ask for clarification if not. I wrote some of this, then did something else for an hour and came back to ramble some more, so hopefully it's coherent. Great question, though, I love it - and I'm always happy to talk about behind-the-scenes stuff for my fics!

[utterlyazriel]

azriel with a mate who’s messy enough they always manage to have something scruffy with their clothing— a collar untucked, a tag poking out, a belt twisted around at the back.

azriel always adores how they never seem to notice. he adores even more the chance to get closer to his love, always silently and politely tucking in tags or smoothing out wrinkles without being asked to — loving how his mate jumps in surprise at his touch but it soothes away into affection in half a moment when they realise who it is <3

[dipplinduo]

TIL @kekstala used to read my ancient conflictingshipping fanfiction YEARS AGO from when my extremely inexperienced & younger self wrote on fanfiction.net & I am not spiritually emotionally or physically fucking okay 💀💀💀💀💀

[idkwhatimdoingbutslay]

The arcane tag absolutely bumping after that drought is so insane 😭 welcome back arcane hype, we missed you !!!

Anyway, appreciation post for the work everyone is putting in rn ‼️‼️‼️

[plumeriacosmos]

polin au where penelope gets to say claire’s iconic “look at the state of you” to colin

thats it. thats the au

[escespace]

WHAT MORE CAN I ASK FOR? THIS IS A WONDER! MORE THAN THAT IT HAS BEEN PURE FACT!

There are so many fics that pose situations that could very well be canon because that's how amazing fic writers are. And this story manages to go beyond that! Not only could this have been canon, but it even fills in gaps.

It's not one of those reads that you can read in one sitting, but the change is welcome this time. I've had to take breaks and breathe to digest fragment by fragment. Many truths are said, and even if we know them or agree with them, they still leave food for thought.

The narration has been divine, easy to follow given how direct it is, it doesn't go too far to be lyrical but rather takes you by the hand along a path that, although familiar, has not been traveled for a long time.

Arthur is his best version, I admit, he is the man who I would not hesitate to say is the king of the once and future. This would be the Arthur we should have been given for the last few seasons if he hadn't gone through so much trauma. (The one in this fic is also very traumatized, but he retains the growth that his arc foreshadows.)

Merlin is a secondary character and yet I LOoooooVE that he was the best of his facets. The playful one that Arthur knows and the solemn one that has seen more than most souls see. They stole that from him in favor of a plot that they repeated from episode one to the end, without understanding that at some point he had the right and deserved to converge to everything that makes him who he is and not just parts scattered between one life and the secret other.

The dialogues are not tiring at all. One would say that reading something that one already knows by heart would bore one, but the author of this fic manages to prevent that from happening, keeping everything as if it were a fairy tale For adults, fascinating but sober. What a great balance to achieve that!

And the little details like physical contact or gestures that speak loudly to each other because there is no one who knows them better. Brilliant.

Lancelot my man as always the most perfect

The relationship analogy with Gwen. Well. I don't even know how to express how satisfying it was to have someone put into words what I sensed as well. The part where he says he would love her like a husband loves To his wife, but Merlin is something else. BRILLIANT!!!

I don't know how to get over this story now. I would read the whole rest of the golden age with this Merlin and Arthur being Fair rulers and in love and I would be happy.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Merlin (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin) Characters: Merlin (Arthurian), Arthur Pendragon Summary:

When Arthur notices the scars on Merlin, he sets off to find out why a servant of all people has such marks and discovers that Merlin might not be all that he seems.

[beatrice1979a]

Speechless Changes - CH 6-1

by @justmywritingstuff

tumblr - read in AO3 for @ladrienjune

Pose credit: @adorkastock for this pose

== CH 1 -

“Oh, you asshole.” She says with a glare. “Of course, it’s MY fucking turn.”

He winks at her and she rolls her eyes.

“What can I say, Bug-a-babe?” Adrien says. “Someone’s gotta carry the team.”

She narrows her eyes at him and scowls. “Ugh, do you have to make the same pun every fucking time I do this?

[...] She bends down and picks up Adrien in a bridal carry, which as always, he enjoys way too much in her opinion. [...]

She doesn’t know why he likes to be carried so much, but his expression afterwards is always super cute and it’s an excuse to have him in her arms, so she’s okay with it.

[sassyandclassy94]

Well That Was Unexpected…

Don Hume x Original Female Character

Part 2 of “He’s Progressed and She’s Impressed”

Summary: Don’s first kiss. That’s it. That’s the summary

Word count: 6,618 (ALAS AND SORROW OF THE WORLD! It’s a LITTLE shorter than I had originally planed)

Rating: Teen and up

Author’s note: Hey, Siri! Play “Speechless” and “Stronger” and blare it from the mountaintops!

Tags: @solo-pitstop-vibes @fentybucky @i-am-a-lost-girl16 and @groovin2beats because I wouldn’t be writing this series if it weren’t for y’all’s support 🫶🏻

Part One

“You seeing Kate again tonight?” Bobby asked Don after crew practice.

A smile teased at the corner of Don’s mouth at the mention of his ‘lady-of-interest’, Kate Barlowe. “Yeah,” he nodded.

“You two have been spending an awful lot of time together lately.” He smirked and delivered a side-eye as he followed his boys to the showers.

Don simply blew off his comment and continued on his way. Bobby was right though; he and Kate had been spending a good amount of time together since their first date a couple of months ago. And he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy every evening that he’d spent with her; with each outing leaving him feeling more and more attached. So much in fact, that he was seriously considering asking her to be his steady girl on their next date. Which was tonight.

“Have you kissed her yet?” Bobby asked in a lower tone that was almost a whisper when they got to the showers.

Don looked down at the floor and blushed before shaking his head.

“What?!” he almost exclaimed. “You two have been going out for what? Four and a half months now and you haven’t kissed her yet??” His eyes were wide as he looked at his friend in disbelief.

“No…” he shook his head again slowly.

Bobby shook his head. “I cannot figure you out, Don.”

More on AO3

[meownotgood]

Hey, just so you know, the person who plagiarized your work hasn't actually deleted their ao3 but changed it to sugucidal. While looking through my one fic I know they commented on it showed up like that. Figured you'd want to know so you can still block them.

oh wow. the saga continues apparently because every single one of the fics this account has ever posted were stolen from me. like.... I'm not sure what could compel a person to do this....